Volume 2
Into The Unknown – April 2007
Well, I am back after a few days away and what a welcome home. I had just started up my computer and before I could check my email or the stock market my computer cut in to say, “It is hardly credible! I have been left silent for seven days, neither speaking or been spoken to. Did you give me any thought at all?”
Somewhat taken aback I said, “Oh don't be so petulant. You got seven days of peace and quietness, and I have much to catch up with, so I would be grateful if you would be quiet, just listen and transcribe, and leave me to get on with the task in hand!”
With that said, I began this dictation. Earlier in the month Joyce and I did in fact attend the Royal National Institute For The Blind's function in the beautiful, refurbished Glasgow Art Galleries. Full marks to the RNIB for organising the event and all praise to Gozie Joe who said the main purpose was to give blind and visually-impaired people the opportunity to meet up and mix socially. As it turned out I did not meet any ‘blind’ people. The fault was mine of course, unless I alone consisted of the entire 4% of completely blind minority within the minority group of us there. That would be a pure anecdotal assumption on my part; all I had to do was ask Gozie Joe. It was a funny sensation; my very first attempt at being part of a so-called group of blind people. I felt distinctly less comfortable than I would have been in the company of sighted people, probably because the demarcation is clearly defined - they can see, I cannot. My discomfort was best illustrated when I, standing in my black world, heard someone say to his neighbour, “Hold my cane and I will go and get 2 cups of coffee.”
A book from my school days came flashing into my mind. It was by Ryder Haggard and, with apologies to him I thought that ‘in the country of the Blind the visually-impaired man is king.’ Certainly I was surprised by my reaction; clearly aware that I would feel more at ease in the company of the sighted, I have a lot to learn’ I can understand the psychology behind my feelings but I really should take advice from those who know, and would probably say, that my response, far from being unique, is pretty commonplace at this early stage of my rehabilitation.
Live and learn Fraser, live and learn. But why am I reluctant to learn from those that know; those with experience, those that have gone before and have had the courage to face up to the psychological effort to join the club? Clearly I am still in ‘denial’ and I really must face reality. As Shakespeare's Julius Caesar said, “the fault dear friend lies not in the stars but in yourself.”
Notwithstanding my failings, how was the occasion? Certainly Gozie Joe and her colleagues did a fine job in organising the whole affair, we had a guide from the Gallery describing, in detail, certain selected objects, such as a fine sarcophagus, an extinct bird, mounted knights in fine armour and of course, Salvador Dali's Christ of St John of the Cross. It is a funny world - I can remember way back in the 60s, the gallery's director, Dr Tom Honeyman, was greatly criticised for spending most of the museum's annual budget in buying the painting for £8,000. At the time there were loud shouts for his resignation but, within a relatively short period, the money was recouped by the sale of reproduced postcards. This famous painting must be worth millions today. A fine buffet and refreshments were laid on and afterwards a genuine effort to mix. For my part, for reasons previously stated, I could best be described at this point as a party-pooper. I must do better next time.
My next new venture was by plane to Cyprus with Joyce and our very good friends, David and Eleanor, to spend a week with them in their lovely house in Larnaca. It was a marvellous holiday; very active and lots of wining and dining and warm companionship. David and Eleanor were wonderful hosts and Joyce and I benefited greatly for the short break.
How did I manage? Well Joyce was involved in a lot of pre-planning, with both the carrier, Thomas Cook, and Glasgow Airport. On the way out everything worked like clockwork; I was given a wheelchair at check-in, pushed through security to the gate, (Joyce having to sacrifice her duty-free shopping). I was then led onto the plane and given special attention from Jennifer, the cabin service manager - all very well organised and efficient. Those involved could not have been more caring or considerate but oh how I hate these new circumstances of total dependence on others. I cannot imagine a time when I can accept it and take it for granted. Imagine for a moment, my humiliation at being taken hand in hand to the toilet. I said to Joyce, “Other passengers will think we're off to join the mile high club.” Her laughing reply, “Allan Darling, we are only flying to Cyprus, for that we would need a long-haul trip!” When we arrived at Larnaca all four of us were helped on to an airport hoist and taken directly to the baggage reclaim.
The return journey however, was quite different; a chaotic shambles on the part of the carrier, again Thomas Cook, and at Larnaca airport, (which is obviously too small to cope with the weight of traffic), the plane was about two hours late with nobody around to tell the passengers what was happening. In fact the staff only appeared when the plane arrived; seemingly seeing their duty only related to the plane and to hell with the passengers. Matters got worse, with the usual knock-on effect. It was a new and very unpleasant experience for me, in my black world, stuck helplessly in a wheelchair for hours on end. Eventually I was helped on to an airport hoist and boarded the plane. We were, as a result, very late in arriving back at Glasgow Airport but they, to their great credit, had me off the plane effortlessly by wheelchair but eventually left me sitting in my darkness, (as there was a long delay in getting our luggage; apparently there was a shortage of baggage handlers). Joyce and my helper got the luggage and then wheeled me straight out to the car park to our son, Andrew's car.
He also had been kept waiting but showed no signs of irritation, only caring and kindness. We were very fortunate that he was still patiently waiting and we were all grateful to get back to the Glasgow West End flat, very late and very tired.
Joyce and I left early the next morning for home but also to attend the funeral of our great friend, Jock Lithgow. He was a fine man with high standards and principles and, in spite of his troubles and tribulations, (Jock was badly wounded and lost an arm at the Allied landing at Anzio during the Second World War), and in all the years of knowing him, I never once saw him make allowances or concession for his disadvantage. In public he always displayed impeccable good manners; he was a class act right up to his final 90th year and will be greatly missed.
What next, ah - yes of course, my book “I’m Beginning To Forget What I Look Like” has now been published and received a raving review from the local newspaper. I think the reviewer went somewhat over the top in his exaltation. For instance, he said, “Allan has the most advanced piece of voice-activated computer equipment imaginable. It doesn't just mirror his dictation; it has points of view, holds discussions, argues and has even been known to tell Allan to get a grip when he is a bit despondent.”
But then, who am I to say? It will be interesting to hear in due course from the other critics. At this point my computer intruded into my dictation by loudly stating, “Of course the book reviewer was right; a sensitive man who recognised the rapport between us and how I, with my considerable, inherited knowledge and skill, not to mention my sympathy, sensitivity and understanding, was a great help to you through those dark early months.” I said, “Behave yourself! I thought we had got all this nonsense out of your head, once and for all. You are just a put-together computer system, albeit a sophisticated one by normal standards. You do not have genes, you do not have DNA, you are artificially intelligent, no more and no less, so will you please do as instructed, play your part and let me get on with mine?” He came back, “All right, if that is how you want to play it Mr High-And-Mighty-Published-Author, but do not expect me, in the future, to be so forthcoming with my views, guidance and opinions when next you ask.”
It will indeed be interesting to get the views of others, once the book, tapes and discs are on general release.
I intend my next book to be more upbeat, however it will be a serial and as truthful and frank as this one, so it depends on what life holds for me in the future.
Posted @ 19:44:40 on 14 May 2007 – Into The Unknown